Home, Sweet Home
by blob80
Summary: "Every reunion is a type of Heaven." —Cullen/F!Treveylan— When Cullen receives a letter from his sister that urges him to come home, he's fully prepared to use work as an excuse. But when he finds out that she sends word to the Inquisitor to request a leave of absence on his behalf, avoiding home is no longer an option. (One-shot)


_Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age._

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 _ **REQUEST INFO:**_ _3k. Light and dorky. Cullen/F! Blind Trevelyan. Circle Mage. Inquisitor meets Cullen's family. Takes place after the Trespasser DLC. So… blind, missing an arm, and can still kick ass. Damn, son._

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 _ **Home, Sweet Home © blob80**_

…

" _I can give no more to the Templar Order, nor it to me._

 _The Maker has shown me a new path; I must take it."_

 _Codex Entry: Cullen_

* * *

Cullen Stanton Rutherford,

Do you have any idea how long it's been since you've last written? No? Of course not. Why would you care? We're just your _family!_ And don't bother trying to remember—it's been too long! I would know. I've been sitting with Rosalie on the porch for the past six months waiting for a letter in the post and what does the runner tell me every week?

' _Nothing this week, messere. Perhaps the next?'_

So help me, Cullen... If you've moved from Skyhold and off to who knows where without telling us _again,_ I will hunt you down. I'm going to give you an earful and what then? I know you've got an image to maintain in that blasted Inquisition of yours, what would they think of me coming all the way from South Reach to reprimand their commander because he's too busy to send one, measly letter? It really isn't hard, is it? I send you so many—and, _yes,_ dear brother, I've heard the news. All of it. That entire ordeal in the Winter Palace and your precious Inquisition saving the world and whatnot, but that was months ago, Cullen. Surely the Inquisition can spare you for a day or two? Your nephew's birthday is coming up and he would appreciate a look at his Uncle's face.

You also haven't told me a thing about what's happening with the Templars and Divine Cassandra and all these other important happenings I know you have connections in. You're always caught in Ferelden's messes. First Lake Calenhad's Circle, then that city in the Free Marches—Kirkwall, was it?—and now Orlais! Really, brother, come home. Please. Just for a little while. I also want to know about the Inquisitor. You refer to her so casually in your letters and—you know what? I'll just—

I am currently writing a letter to Inquisitor Trevelyan as we speak, requesting for one or two days off on your behalf.

Don't frown at this letter, Cullen. We want to see you.

Branson's son says, "Ello."

Love,

Mia

* * *

Inquisitor Trevelyan,

I've always been a stubborn woman—it runs in the family—and while I do know you're busy, I've decided to send this letter to you directly because I know Cullen will keep putting a reunion off on the excuse that he has work to do. I'm sure we can both agree that he works enough as it is. So, if you can spare him, please allow him to come to South Haven.

We miss him terribly.

Our family welcomes you as well of course. Our home is a humble one, but it's certainly large enough to fit another guest. I would love to hear about Cullen's work without him exaggerating his accomplishments.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Mia Rutherford

* * *

His sister's name on the envelope, written in a heavier hand than usual, should have been his first clue. His complete name in the heading was undoubtedly the next. But when he read the final lines of her too round scrawls with that closing she was oh, so fond of, he felt little love for her. In fact, the only thing he felt at that moment was a deep sense of foreboding as his nerves fell into the pit of his stomach. He barely registered the courier call to him once, twice— _Commander!_

He snapped to attention.

But his eyes were on the door and though he knew the man was looking at him funny, thoughts of how he could intercept that letter before Leliana or Josephine read it to the Inquisitor was the only thing he cared for at the moment.

Oh, wait.

Cullen looked right into the courier's eyes, startling him.

"The mail," he began, voice only mildly panicked, "is this the last of it?"

"Yes, Commander," the man nodded hesitantly, hastily telling him his schedule when Cullen's eyes narrowed. "I stopped by the barracks first, Commander. The pub, the Inquisitor's office, the library, then finally to y—"

Dropping the paper in his hands, Cullen was out the door before the man even finished his sentence. He needed to get that paper. Speeding through the halls in a pace decorum just barely deemed appropriate, he felt the beginnings of desperation claw its way up his throat. Very old territory. The last time he'd felt this way was almost three years ago when he didn't think he'd be able to quit lyrium. He did of course—thanks to Meegan's faith, Cassandra's encouragement, and Mia's letters—and he didn't think a simple letter from his sister could scare him so. She was certainly a force to be reckoned with. But really, it was embarrassing, and he certainly didn't need help in that department. He was quite good at it. Too good.

Cullen shook his head at the thoughts crowding his mind, he didn't have time for this nonsense!

Reaching the War Room's door, he practically tore it off its hinges. To his dismay, however, Josephine had already begun her daily task of going through the unholy piles of letters they received on a daily basis to the Inquisitor. Not many were skilled enough—or wealthy enough to hire someone—to write to her in Brail. Though he knew some that wrote so harshly she could make out the words without Joesphine's help, his sister wasn't one of them. And from the way they startled at his entrance, Josephine avoiding his eyes and grinning infuriatingly, he knew that they'd just finished reading Mia's letter.

"You didn't… that letter—" Cullen pointed almost helplessly at the parchment in her hands. "That didn't happen to be… from my sister?"

"This?" Josephine asked, smiling a little too broadly. "Well, it had no name and it was addressed to the Inquisitor, you see. I didn't think it would be of a… personal nature. It was thrown in with all these business letters, so I most certainly didn't mean to pry. In case you wanted to read it to her yourself."

"No!" Cullen immediately denied. "That's not why I was aski—"

"We didn't know you were so desperate for a few days off," Meegan smoothly interrupted with a grin playing on the edge of her lips. Cullen stiffened at her words, as he watched her turn to grin at him. Her robes had been replaced by something more comfortable and though her hair was still in its usual ponytail, it gave her an air of relaxation that was normally absent during her "work hours."

"Yes, well," Josephine coughed, quietly making her way for the door. "I know Leliana needed me for something about those nugs of hers. One accidentally ate deathroot, or so I believe. Though I don't know what she thinks I can do—but, yes… if you'll excuse me."

The door closed quietly behind her, wrapping them in silence.

She was the first to break it.

"Your sister seems to believe that you never stop working," she informed him, laughing. "Is she always right?"

"She likes to think so," he muttered, seating himself across from her and admiring the way the light settled in the room. It illuminated her face and cast shadows everywhere else. Or was that just him? He blushed at his own thoughts, somewhat glad that she couldn't see him. "She has this grin, too. Smug like you wouldn't believe."

"Do you miss it?"

"A little," he shrugged. "I haven't seen her in years and between my duties to the Templars, then to the Inquisition, I don't think I'll be able to anytime soon. Still, it's no excuse to send a letter directly to the _Inquisitor._ "

"She said she misses you," she said, laughing again. He face palmed a little too harshly. He was sure there was a red mark on his forehead. "Terribly."

"Terribly?"

"Terribly." Meegan nodded. As Cullen groaned. "You should write more. She's just worried about you."

"I know," he dismissed with a wave of his hand and a reflective frown. "For every letter I send, she sends six. Do you know how tiring it is to write back to all of those? And for reasons beyond me, she always seems to know where I am. The Winter Palace? She knew I was there. Sent four letters. Maker, if I was lost in the Deep Roads she'd probably be the only one able to sniff me out. She's always been good at tracking me down."

"Clearly not good enough to make you visit."

"No," he easily agreed. "You're the only one that's worth taking a break for." Eyes widening, he only realized his words when Meegan's grin widened impishly, clearly pleased. Cullen coughed and cleared his throat as loudly as possible, trying to shake off the sappy atmosphere he'd unwittingly created. This was too much. "Maker's breath, I didn't mean that—well, I did. I mean, no. I didn't, but… oh, that sounded much better in my head."

"I'm sure," she drawled.

"For the love of Andraste, can we… can we speak of something else?"

"Things have somewhat settled here," she began after a pregnant pause, changing the topic and humming in satisfaction when he let out a strangled sigh of relief. "So, _Commander,_ as the Inquisitor, I am ordering you to take a personal week to South Reach to visit your family."

"A week?" he asked, startled.

"This week will begin once you reach South Reach of course. Travel days don't count."

"Hold it! What do you mean a week? I can't leave this place for a day, let alone a—"

"It's decided!" she said, entirely uncompromising. As she stood, making her way to the door. With him hot on her heels. "All complaints can be directed to my Adviser, Madam Montilyet."

"But, no. Meegan liste—"

"No objections," she commanded, turning to wrap her arms around him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. How she seemed to know exactly where he was, despite her lack of sight was still a mystery to him. And how she walked around Skyhold on her own in the dead of night or even pinpoint the exact spot she needed to hit an enemy were probably the greatest wonders of Ferelden. "Is that clear, Commander?"

Cullen stilled, reveling in the feel of her lips so close to his own.

"Clear," he muttered, before bending down to kiss her.

It lasted all of a moment, and when she abruptly pulled away, he thought they'd gotten interrupted again. As they usually did. Gossip spread quickly through the barracks and ever since they'd gotten together, it was as if the soldiers had devised a plan to barge in on them as often as they could. Cullen even turned to glare at the door, only for him to find it closed and devoid of life.

"What's wrong?" he asked, tilting his head in concern.

"I'm coming with you," she announced with that little half smile tilting her lips.

And for the second time that day, he felt desperation claw at him.

* * *

South Reach was a quaint little village just west of the Brecillian Forest. It was filled with farms that produced mostly corn and kept only as much livestock as needed. The land itself was flanked by sloped hills that was reminiscent of the larger city of Redcliffe. Though it was far smaller than the great city, they still had their own chantry. Tiny as it was, however, it only housed a few sisters and a grand total of five Templars. It didn't even have a request board. Their prized possession was a single statue of the Lady Andraste and two silver candelabra's that sat on the altar, never lit.

But the weather was good and the folk were welcoming, if not a little wary by their sudden appearance. They'd come with a few guards, due to Cullen's insistence, in a caravan that had the Inquisition's symbol emblazoned imposingly on it. It wasn't the most subtle of entourages, but people left them alone. Highway robbers were too intimidated by the emblem, and those that weren't were quickly dealt with.

By the time they saw their men to the nearby inn and followed the paper with Mia's address hastily scrawled on it, the sun was already setting. The modest abode was surprisingly easy to find, despite being on the outskirts of the village. Simply because light poured forth from every window, illuminating their path like the most effective of lighthouses. The house was all sturdy wood and potted plants. It was encased by a wide fence that wouldn't be of much help against bandits, but were perfect for keeping horses inside.

A decidedly cozy place. Cullen was glad his family lived here. There was even a guard tower nearby, where two archers and one swordsman kept careful watch of their surroundings—not one of them was drunk. Which was more than could be said about some of the guards they had in Skyhold.

Cullen held Meegan's elbow, as he turned into the path that led to the front door. He casually explained his surroundings to her, and he watched her lips twitch, listening intently to his every word. He'd definitely gotten a lot better at explaining his surroundings in vivid detail since meeting her. As he was mapping everything out, the door suddenly burst open, blinding him for a moment. He raised his arm to shield himself, but it was suddenly pulled down with surprising force and he was enveloped in a hug.

"Cullen!" Mia said, as warmly as he remembered. She pulled back and he saw the new lines around her eyes and lips, grown deeper with grief. But she was still the same Mia he remembered. And he looked up to find Rosalie peeking through the door—much, much taller than the one from his memories. Some of the baby fat had been replaced by sharp lines and angles, and he didn't exactly know how to feel about that. But right now, he was happy—and where in the world was his brother and nephew?

"You came," Mia said, breathless, slicing through his thoughts. As Rosalie ran to him with tears in her eyes. "I can't believe you actually came!"

"Well," Cullen coughed, prying Rosalie's fingers away. They were dainty things. "Mee—the Inquisitor insisted."

"I figured he needed the break," Meegan piped up from beside him. "And I'm sure the rest of Skyhold would agree."

"Oh…" Mia trailed off, her eyes widening by the second as she gathered her wits, and she realized just who was standing before her. "Oh!"

"Oh?" Both Cullen and Rosalie said at the same time, raising their eyebrows in amusement, as they watched Mia fret.

"Quiet," she hissed at them, before turning back to Meegan with a bright smile. Her eyes curiously drifted to her staff, wondering for a brief instant if she knew her brother had once been a devoted Templar—he'd even dreamed of becoming one as a child. But the thought was quickly dismissed when she met her unseeing orbs. "I'm so sorry for not noticing you, Inquisitor!"

"Meegan is fine," she said, laughing awkwardly and playing with the tip of her ponytail. A habit she'd developed over the years when she was feeling particularly nervous about something. Cullen noticed—of course he did. But he thankfully didn't say anything about it.

"Meegan," Mia said, trying the name on her tongue. It was certainly distinctive. She would never understand the naming sense of nobility. Ronus, Sebastian, Yves. All so bizarre and fitting for their bearers at the same time. It was as if they knew they'd grow into the name at birth. Unlike that blacksmith's son who had the misfortune of being called—oh, what was she thinking? Arguably, one of the most powerful women in Ferelden stood before her!

"Thank you so much for allowing Cullen to come home," she said hurriedly. "We haven't seen him in years—ah! As I'm sure you know. I'm so glad you could come! I hope we didn't take you from anything too important?"

"Not as much as this."

Mia didn't think her smile could get any wider.

* * *

Cullen almost forgot how fussy his sister could be. Almost. He watched her worry over Meegan, making sure she was comfortable and volunteering to help her, unknowing or—more than likely—forgetting that she was the Inquisitor. The all too capable and powerful Herald of Andraste that could most definitely take care of herself. At one point, she'd even made Meegan blush when she offered to cut her meat for her during dinner. It was a sight Cullen could get used to. And during that singular moment, he knew he could be happy here. With his family and with her. But he also knew he'd get bored. Because some twisted part of him actually liked work. And that he didn't _want_ to stay cooped up in some quiet village while the rest of the world spun.

Realizing he'd blanked out of the conversation when Rosalie kicked him under the table, he shook his head and grinned apologetically in her direction.

"He didn't even tell us when he transferred to Kirkwall or Haven or that he was in… ooh where was it— _Skyhold_!" Mia exclaimed, infuriated. As he tried to keep up with the sudden subject. She shot him the most scathing glance he'd ever seen, and he faced both darkspawn and demons. It was even more terrifying than the glare of that glowing elf he'd seen in Hawke's company many times in Kirkwall. "I had to track him down— _track_! Can you believe that? Like a bloody mabari!"

"Maker knows you'd make a good one," Cullen muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, smiling innocently and shifting through his mind for a change in topic. "Where's Branson?"

"With his boy," she said, sighing. "Poor thing's down with a fever. But he promised to visit tomorrow. How long are you staying?"

"A week," Meegan said.

"A week!" Mia repeated, far more excited. "That gives us plenty of time to catch up. Oh, you have to tell me all about Cullen. What does he do there? He never says a word about anything important."

"What are you talking about?" Cullen asked, staring pointedly at her. "I told you about Orlais and some of my stresses. I even write stories sometimes."

"Oh, hush," she muttered, glaring at him. "You write about the ones that are embarrassing for others and not _you_. How is that fun?"

"And she wonders why I don't visit," he said under his breath. His sister was clearly trying to get them to gang up on him, not that she needed the help. In that moment, he sorely wished his brother was there.

Mia pointedly ignored him and turned to Meegan. "So?"

Cullen didn't trust the smirk on Meegan's face, and he swore that if she even mentioned that one game of Wicked Grace where he ran out in nothing but his birthday suit, he'd jump across the table to silence her. He was even open to using a few of his Templar skills. Meegan seemed to pause for a never-ending moment, fully knowing that her silence was making him jumpy.

Evil, evil woman.

"Oh," Meegan finally began, "I don't think you'll believe me."

"Nonono," Mia assured. As she and Rosalie leaned in closer. Cullen did as well, hands on his knees and fully prepared to jump like a Halla at any moment. "We would!"

"We definitely would," Rosalie seconded.

"Well…" Meegan said ever so slowly, and he just _knew_ she was thinking of that Wicked Grace game. "You wouldn't believe how great he is at dancing."

Both Rosalie and Mia squealed at the revelation, but Cullen merely sighed in relief. As he fell back against his seat, sweating way more than any man should at the dinner table. Grabbing his cup with more force than necessary, he watched on as Meegan and his sisters spoke excitedly about his supposed grace on the dance floor. And for a moment, he regretted not writing about it instead. So he'd be spared their laughter. Cullen was sure they'd rattle her for every story she could remember, and even the ones she couldn't. Meegan's voice would definitely leave her after all of this.

Maker's breath, they had a long week ahead of them.

* * *

" _Every reunion is a type of Heaven."_

 _\- Tryon Edwards_

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 _A/N: Ah, Cullen. Who else could tell I wasn't used to writing for characters like him? I hope I didn't make him OOC. I decided to write in his POV because it seemed preferable to fabricating an entire personality for the Inquisitor when the plot itself would mostly be centered around him. (Plus, I've developed a preference for writing from the guy's perspective.)_

 _After reading through Mia and Cullen's letters from the game, I tried to show her worry-wart personality. I was planning to keep Cullen on lyrium actually, but I found out that he didn't reply to Mia at all if he was still addicted, so I decided against it. A POV of pure Cullen struggling with his lyrium addiction would be best for a separate one-shot where I can focus entirely on him. Because I am eviiilll._

 _I'll get around to it one of these days, I'm sure._

…

 _Please review._

 _-Blob80 Out._


End file.
